Trucker Hat
by TheKingJingles
Summary: [After Movieverse] ONESHOT If there was one thing Optimus Prime loathed more than Decepticons, it was that stupid hat.  OptimusxOC


Hullo there readers! Jingles here, formally known as LisaTheHedgehog! (But I don't think any of my fellow Transformers nerds know/care about that.)

So, that said, this is my first Transformers fic, a little one shot I thought up listening to my iPod during a long road trip. Yes, it's based off of the song "Trucker Hat" by Bowling for Soup and it's where I got my inspiration. Just a cute little fluffy thing for you guys I thought up, trying my hand at writing about giant robots and rather "detailed" scenes.

If it's really bad, don't hesitate to tell me! I appreciate all feedback, unless you're trying to be a jerk without reason. (I might cry at first, but I love all feedback in the end!)

A couple notes so I don't get flamed. The only Transformers I've actually seen was "Beast Wars" back in the day (and I barely remember that) and the 2007 movie (Woo hoo!) so sorry if I sound like a complete noob ('cause I am). That and everything Ironhide says within said fic is completely made up. I have no doubt that something like it could've happened, but I have no knowledge, so I just popped it out of my noggin'. (That and I got carried away with his accent. I read a fic and tried to copy it, and it turned out weird. My bad.)

Wow, that was a lot of talking! So, without further ado…

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If there was one thing Optimus Prime loathed more than Decepticons, more than Megatron himself, it was that damn hat. Every moment she was awake, every moment she wasn't, that hat was perched on her head as if it was part of her skull and it bothered him to know end.

Unfortunately, she realized that. She knew it and used his annoyance against him, wearing it straight on, the brim behind her head, even gangster style. All the time, she would look at him out of the corner of her eye and remove it from her head, running her fingers through her hair before replacing it. His frame shook from deep in his engine as her scent would waft over him teasingly.

It was something his logic program could never process. Indeed she was beautiful, a perfect specimen of her species. Yet she insisted on masking her beauty with that stupid hat!

Now was a prime example of one of the few reasons why he _would_ allow the accursed thing. They had gathered at the look out, the place Sam had unofficially dubbed their 'base'.

Said boy was next to Prime's most trusted spy, lip-locked with the lovely Mikaela Banes. His soldiers and himself had been on the planet for almost a year, and Bumblebee had luckily become immune to their frequent 'make-out sessions', unlike the rest of the team.

Ratchet was trying his best to stay focused on the blaring sunset, half-listening to the conversation between Ironhide and Mickey only a few yards off. It wasn't necessarily a subject the medic wanted to revel in, stories of famous battles the old mech had been in.

Optimus remained in his vehicle form yards away from all of them, sensors locked onto Mickey as she kept fidgeting, craning her neck as far left as it would go towards his weapons specialist and using that hat as screen to block the mushy movie scene from her eyes. It was something he felt torn about; she didn't need to see the mating ritual Sam and Michaela were performing, again, but he couldn't say that he approved of the gruesome tales of bloodshed Ironhide was describing.

"An' I was holdin' down th' fort for as long as I could, but even I feared that they'd soon over run us. I don' think even I could handle one mo' scream from those young'ins gettin' arms an' legs ripped off, or even their sparks. Then I see this great roun' from an energy cannon lan' right in the spark chamber o' this slaggin' 'Con tryin' ta blindside me. Over the hill, Optimus Prime was standin' with a whole line o' reinforcements! They come chargin' down that hill, rounds firin' in every direction and mowin' down those slaggin' brutes 'til not a single 'Con was left standin'! An' that's how we won the battle o' The Shunic Plains." Ironhide weaved the story like an art, using gestures and vocal strain, as well as leaning closer to Mickey to emphasize the important parts.

The commander chuckled softly to himself. His Weapons Expert had a habit of overplaying his role in that battle, whether Ironhide did it for his own pleasure, or to impress the girl with Optimus' supposed feats. Either way, her face was alit with awe, the smoldering sunset accenting her features excellently as her eyes, as blue as any Autobot's, twinkled with admiration.

At this point, the Peterbilt felt a strange sensation from deep in his spark. Unfortunately, it was one he was becoming more and more familiar with during his time on the small planet, especially with Mickey. Again, he resisted the urge to rev loudly and pushed it to the corners of his processor, even if it would get the desired result: a small glance, no matter how confused, in his direction.

Optimus 'bit his tongue' as it were for several more moments, when, strangely, Mickey started to say her goodbyes. She was very formal with Ironhide, and gave a nice smile with a wave to Ratchet, then a sympathetic snort and sloppy salute towards the Camero, still stuck under the wandering hands and sweating bodies while they ran up legs and caresses slipped under shirts while mouths…

Even the great 'bot needed to look away at that part. Instead, all sensors concentrated on the country angel making her way towards him with her hand pulling down the brim on her crimson trucker hat. The scanner probed her figure from head to toe, taking in her form fitting jeans moving with her every curve, the ribbed white undershirt expressing her best points, while her wavy dirty blonde hair bounced at her shoulders and a small smile barely visible by the shadows.

When she arrived at his side, she stopped dead and looked up towards the cab, a straight-forward lost look on her face. Mickey was used to being able to walk right in with the door wide open and waiting for her, sometimes (to her embarrassment) from even 20 feet away (in the middle of a crowded parking lot no less).

She tip-toed up to the door and gently brushed her fingers against the slick paint, expecting to feel the usual hum of the engine, but the frame remained still. Her hand moved to the top of her head, displacing the hat and scratching lightly while her face twisted in thought and Optimus felt a pang of hurt in his spark.

Yet the country girl was not to be deterred and took several steps back to get a better view of the cab, as if his face were there. Nothing surprised the girl; it was as empty as a clamshell. So he sensed that she was preparing for Plan B.

With a running leap, Mickey grasped onto the edge of his hood, then pushed her upper body higher and swung her leg over, pulling a quick roll to prevent falling off and onto her bum. Much to the displeasure of Prime's self-control, the girl was spread-eagle on his hood, wiggling back and forth and making herself comfortable for a long stay. Both knew that he would never leave with her in such an unsafe position. But if there was a rope…

"Won'tcha talk to me?" Her mouth moved while her eyes were glued to the clouds.

There was a familiar tingle of static on the back of her neck, causing the hairs to rise in an eerie sensation, and with a few flickers, a man in his mid-thirties was lying next to her. At first with a hint of transparency, he looked quite like a corpse, arms limp at his sides, but soon enough his deep blue eyes were concentrating on the same fluffy cloud as she, appearing very solid as he placed his hands in back of his head as a make-shift pillow.

As a very blunt woman, when any other girl would have snuck a glanced like a school girl with a crush, Mickey just let her head fall to the left and stared at him with a blank and patient look. Her eyes studied him as his sensors always examined her; his face was steady and unwavering, just like the leader she imagined him to be, yet he seemed determined to ignore her presence (never mind the fact that he created the hologram on her request).

Glancing up and down him one last time, she noted something, "Yah know, it would be a lot more believable if your chest actually moved… like you were _breathing_."

Instantly, his chest moved up and down lazily, the light sound of two persons breathing patterns barely audible as the warm air made a small bubble around them. The warmth reminded him of happier times, as shown in his body language. He curled up more and crossed his arms over his broad chest, turning slightly to face away from her.

"What?" Mickey rolled to her stomach, resting her chin against her hands, supported by her propped up elbows, "Not soft enough for yah?"

His grunt was response enough. She knew her squishy little body was much better a pillow, and he'd admitted to it. The hunched position he was in only gave her more reason to worry. True, they weren't in the most secluded area, but with the trees for cover and the other Autobots not paying attention (the humans way too far away to notice anything); he would've had a beeline for her lap and make himself comfortable as if he owned the place.

"D'Yah have a rough day?" She asked softly, reaching out to play with his hair.

Optimus failed to respond again. Not really failed; he'd made another grunt, but was still a very pissy hologram. She held her face in her palms and let out a sigh, knowing she was running out of options.

It was then he stiffened and straightened out. Her eyes widened in shock, but then firmly met his gaze as he peeked over his shoulder, obviously worried. Here she tried the anger approach; brow furrowed and lips thin as she stared him down. Unfazed, he didn't move, not even blinking, and she tried the last idea she could think of. Eyes pulled down at the edges as her lips plumped, a full-fledged pout.

A miracle. He rolled over onto his back and looked up at her with his powerful blue stare. An opportunity she didn't want to miss. Mickey slowly lowered her body and leaned in, taking full note as his eyes widened the closer she got.

"Feel like talkin', now?" She breathed into his face.

At last, the sign she'd been waiting for. When the big guy couldn't meet her gaze anymore, it was his sign of being embarrassed. She cocked her head to the side and leaned back out, grunting.

"Whassamater?"

What _was _the matter? Was the great Optimus Prime jealous of his old friend? Just because his angel's attention was diverted for a few hours at most? Yes. Maybe. It was more than that.

"The hat." He muttered.

"Huwhat?"

Optimus met her with an annoyed look, "The hat."

She glanced up, as if to see it on her own head and he couldn't help but roll his eyes. Sometimes intelligence _was_ sacrificed for beauty.

He was looking the other way when something soft brushed against his lips. He hadn't meant to, it was just natural, especially for a hologram. An electric shock went straight to her lips and made her jump back in surprise, hand clamped over her mouth. He also didn't mean to laugh, or chuckle under his breath, but he did.

Mickey leaned in, a look to kill in her eyes as she grit her teeth and growled her way to his face, when a hand wrapped around her neck and pulled her back into a kiss. Optimus started off gentle then lightly sucking her supple lips before going deeper, sucking harder and using more force.

His hand left its trap in her hair and blindly followed her curves to her hips and with one swift movement, lifted her up and on top of him, lying on his chest and between his legs. After that, he answered the call and returned to her hair, fingers locked into her loose curls and one hand massaged her scalp. The other found the hat and promptly knocked it off with a grunt.

Optimus pressed deep and smooth into her hair while his tongue traced her lips, enjoying the taste. He didn't necessary _need_ her mouth to open, as he wasn't expecting it, but it definitely was a perk. It played with her lips one last time before gliding over her teeth, meeting one of its own kind. At first, his knew play toy was shy, so he enticed it, brushing against it before backing away and repeating. Finally, her tongue came to meet his, curling around it timidly, but dominance still remained with him.

This would not do. He didn't want this; he wanted a fight, a vigor, something that could rival him. Optimus reached in and bit, not hard, but enough to turn the sparks to flame. Mickey pushed him back down roughly with her hands pinning his shoulders, her tongue diving in and lassoing it, brining it back and holding it between her teeth and she sucked vigorously.

The tongues continued their war, pushing, shoving and cornering their opponents, the battle turning gruesome. Both sides were beating up the other while the hands ravaged the hair of their enemy, pulling and massaging as Mickey lowered her body and began to rub slowly against him, and he couldn't deny that it felt good. Good enough to admit to Sam that his tactics were a hundred times better than they looked? Not likely.

Neither side had the will to give up, but being human has its disadvantages. Her pushes against him were weaker as she still rubbed against him with great fatigue, even her tongue becoming sloppy in his mouth, feeling much like a rubbing chicken. A wet, wiggling and magnificent tasting rubber chicken. The fingers in his hair grew limp and he knew it was time to wave the white flag.

With gentle hands, he pushed her up, their lips being the last thing to spring apart. Optimus laid her down on his chest and wrapped his muscular arms around her possessively and listened to her rapid, uneven heartbeat and small, brisk pants for air. With a small smirk, he noticed that she swallowed thickly, trying to sooth her dry throat after he greedily took all of the warm moist taste.

They stayed in that position until the last of the burning ball of gas disappeared off the horizon, leaving only stray rays to light the birthing night. The angel in his arms nuzzled into his chest and planted a kiss on his collarbone, making even his engine rumble in delight.

Then she had to ruin it and sit up, pulling her legs, rather seductively, until she was straddling him, and bounced a couple times to make her 'toush' more comfy (but you'd never hear _him_ complain). When she started fiddling with her clothes after that exhausting 'session', he turned his half-lidded eyes towards the new stars appearing across the sky. At least until her head blocked his view.

"You… really don't like it?"

He glanced down at the red hat in her hands, the subject of her gaze as well. Optimus didn't answer and she continued turning it over in her hands, brushing and tracing over every feature sewn into it.

"I bought it when I first met you. I thought…" Mickey trailed off.

Then in a flash, his optics couldn't relay any information. With a small scowl, he took it off his head and held it in his hand, not missing the slight gasp from atop him. In one, swift motion, it was perfectly fitted on his head, the brim sticking to the side a notch. She smiled in response to his smirk and leaned in.

His lips were alive and waiting for her, but nothing warm and soft came to rest upon them. Blue eyes almost flashed red when he shot a glare in her direction, her lips resting on the material resting on his head. It stayed there for a few seconds, and then began a trail. Almost like breadcrumbs, small kisses lead down to his forehead, over his nose and pausing right over his awaiting mouth.

He didn't wait; his lips jumped up and bumped into hers, a nice long, wet, but gentle kiss before she sat back up. His angel sat up and let her hair fall around her face in lovely clusters, the young moon's bright shine drenching her in its light and she cocked her head to the side, cheekily.

Could Optimus Prime learn to accept the hat? Yes. Could he learn to even like it? Most definitely.

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Please, tell me what you think! Good, bad, sequel? Any and all comments welcome! Jingles, signing out! 


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